


Screaming Babies

by dedicatedfollower467



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU - Alpha Kids all land in the 90s, AU - Dirk and Roxy arrive at the same time as Jane and Jake, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Babies, Baby Colic, Dave Strider is a Good Parent, Fluff, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Sleep Deprivation, dave just doesn't understand how to help his screaming child
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 04:35:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16758076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dedicatedfollower467/pseuds/dedicatedfollower467
Summary: Famous movie director Dave Strider is woken up at an absolutely fucking ungodly hour when his colicky baby starts to wail. Again.Dave is at his wit's end here.





	Screaming Babies

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this aaaaaaages ago when I had this plan to make it the first chapter of a longer fic where I explore the relationship between Alpha Dave and Dirk as he grows up. Obviously I never finished that big long grandiose plan, but I still like this first bit fine, and I'm trying to go through some of my old fics and spruce up the ones that are presentable even if they're not as "finished" as I wanted them to be.
> 
> Keeping the option open to eventually do the longer story as a collection of snippets, but don't count on it.

When the screaming woke Dave up, he hadn’t really been asleep. To him, it seemed like he had just got the baby down, found the nearest level surface, and shut his eyes, before blinking them back open again as the wailing filled the apartment. He didn’t have to glance at the clock to know it was an absolutely ungodly hour, even for him.

Groaning, Dave sat up and blinked around the room before realizing he’d conked out on the futon instead of making it to his bedroom. God, no wonder his back hurt, the mattress on the thing was ancient. He rose to noodle limbs and made his way to the baby’s room.

The first thing Dave registered was that the puppet he had perched on the side of the crib as a kind of decoration had fallen off, and was now sprawled on the ground. Dave didn’t like its weird, dead eyes or its gaping mouth, but he was too tired to deal with it, so he just kicked it aside and walked over.

“God, Dirk,” he muttered, as he lifted the flailing, shrieking baby into his arms. “You can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep doing this.”

Dave started bouncing Dirk up and down, knowing it was in vain, knowing that all it would do was lend a slight warble to the cries. God, just doing this he could feel the bags under his eyes getting larger and darker and puffier, like some gigantic diseased mushroom.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he told the baby again. “I’ve got a shoot tomorrow at five in the morning.”

Catching the sight of the clock on the wall, he groaned, full-throated and honest. “Correction: I’ve got a shoot _today_ at five in the morning. I’ve got a shoot in _three fucking hours_. Dirk, please, I can’t keep doing this.”

The baby did not stop crying, and Dave tried walking around the apartment. He tried holding Dirk upright and holding Dirk sideways, and even bouncing him laying on his chest (supporting his head, of course, he wasn’t a _monster_ ). He even tried giving him a bottle, and burping him, and cuddling him with the damn puppet he’d been so keen on. Nothing worked. It was getting closer to two hours before his shoot.

The worst part was knowing that his kid was in _agony_ , and being unable to do a fucking thing about it. Dave wanted to just lift away whatever it was that was hurting Dirk, and he had no power to do so. It made his own heart ache so badly he swore he could cry harder than Dirk right now.

“I give up,” Dave declared, slumping exhausted onto the futon, letting Dirk lay against his chest and wail. “I can’t do this.”

He called Rose.

“God, Dave, do you have any idea what hour it is here?” she demanded when she answered the phone.

“A better hour than it is here,” he countered, “Rosie, the baby is crying and he won’t stop and I don’t know what to do.”

“And you ask _me_ about this?”

“You’ve got a baby, too, don’t you?” Dave said. “I figured you’d have somehow, I don’t know, magically developed Mom powers. Isn’t that what normally happens to people when they become parents?”

“You know it’s not Dave. And frankly, I don’t know why you’re calling me. Roxy’s a perfectly quiet baby. Been sleeping through the night since I got her. She’s a little clingy but she’s never loud.”

“You have no idea?” Dave said. He could hear the desperation in his own voice and hated himself for it, just a little.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I suppose you could try driving him around?” Rose said. “My mother used to swear it was the only way to get me to sleep as a kid.”

“Thank you,” Dave said, intense gratefulness washing his whole body. “God, thanks Rosie.”

“Don’t thank me until you know it works,” she said, and hung up on him.

The journey down to the parking garage seemed to take an eternity. Part of Dave was certain Dirk would wake the neighbors with his screaming, but thankfully no one came out to demand that he keep it down.

He strapped Dirk into the baby carrier, hoping against hope that this would finally work. Keys and nerves jangling, he climbed into the front seat and started the engine.

Miraculously, the wailing lessened for an instant, a slight break in the incessant noise. Fingers literally crossed on the steering wheel, Dave backed out of the garage and turned onto the quiet early morning streets.

This was Houston. Even at 4am there were people on the roads - mostly taxis and people going to work at the bakeries and cafes and diners that opened for breakfast soon. Dave was so focused on keeping his eyes open and not falling asleep that he almost didn’t notice Dirk’s screaming turn to slight hiccups and then quiet breathing.

“Finally,” Dave muttered, ready to turn back to the apartment.

Then he glanced at the clock and groaned, almost slamming his head into the car horn in frustration. “Fuck,” he swore, “I gotta get going or I’m gonna miss the shoot.”

He looked up to the rear view mirror, seeing Dirk peaceful and contented, sleeping in his baby carrier. If they went back now, Dave would have to deal with the hassle of carrying him up the elevator and putting him back down in the crib, which would almost inevitably result in Dirk waking up and screaming again because of being woken up. Which would mean Dave would have to calm him down and send him to sleep, and then the babysitter would arrive and he’d have to explain everything, and it would be hours before he made it to the shoot.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, taking a right turn on the road that would lead him to the studio.

It was a good thing he kept a spare diaper bag in the trunk.


End file.
